


Another New Chapter

by Seabirdsong



Series: Cullenites Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Post-Trespasser, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:01:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seabirdsong/pseuds/Seabirdsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a prompt fill for the Cullenites group. The prompt is: Cullen & Quizzy discuss having children. Takes place post Trespasser and contains spoilers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another New Chapter

Cullen glanced over Evelyn's bare back as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. It was still strange to wake to these new white oak walls. Creamy and smooth, these were nothing at all like his quarters back in Skyhold, and felt all the more different for the lack of messengers constantly barging through the cottage's doors. Two towering windows looked out over an impossibly verdant valley, and had worked perfectly to ease his claustrophobia in the night, the same as his open roof once had. He hadn't even realized how tiresome it had become to have to climb a ladder each time he wanted to retreat to his quarters until he no longer had to do it anymore, and especially during those times he needed to carry something else up with him.

Each morning he opened his eyes with a part of him still expecting to see the large gap in the ceiling, and the creeping Ivy vines that wound their way in along the weathered stone, and each morning he was relieved to remember that the Inquisition had been disbanded, and he had already embarked upon yet another new chapter in his life. As strange as it still felt sometimes, it was a chapter he had been thinking about for the last two years, ever since Evelyn had returned to Skyhold with the news that Corypheus had been defeated. He'd been thinking about certain aspects of it in great detail in fact, especially lately.

He felt himself smile almost involuntarily as he admired the smooth lines of her back while she slumbered warm and quiet beside him. The sheets had been kicked down to the top of her buttocks, leaving exposed that delicious curve of her spine that dipped down into her tapered waist. The landscape of her flesh was populated with various nicks and scars, remnants of her life that somehow seemed almost agonizingly precious despite the violence they represented. But no matter what had happened in the past, what foes she had faced, what battles she had fought, she was here now, alive. The world had been saved, and there was little need for fighting anymore.

His smile faded as he noticed how she had what was left of her arm tucked under her body, as though even in her sleep she was trying to hide it. She was still reluctant to ask for help when she couldn't open a jar on her own or work something else around the house, and he could feel a new current of sadness in her even though she never complained. He'd done his best to try to anticipate her needs so that she didn't have to ask, but she persisted in trying out every new way she could think of to accomplish difficult tasks on her own before finally coming for help. It pained him to see her struggle, but he knew that she needed to do what she needed to do, even if he wished she would let herself rely on him just a little bit more. He supposed that was one of the concessions one must make when marrying such a strong, capable woman. He sighed wistfully as he reached out to gently pull his fingertips down the curve of her back, rejoicing in the two little dimples just below her waist. It seemed every inch of her had been crafted deliberately by the Maker himself.

"Mmmm," she groaned.

"Oh, you are awake," he said, surprised.

"Of course I am. I've been awake ever since that damn rooster sounded off two hours ago," she grumbled, her words muffled by the pillow under her face. "I hope you're fine with chicken for dinner."

Cullen snorted a laugh.

"The girls will be devastated," he said.

"Well the  _the girls_  can get over it. And that's what they get for not earning their keep around here. I only got three eggs out of them yesterday," she continued. "Maybe if their beloved stud goes missing they'll realize they need to step it up, unless they want to be dinner next."

Cullen shook his head as he pulled himself up against the headboard and glanced out the window toward the chicken coop. As far away from the house as it was, there was no mistaking those fluffy bodies as they strutted around the pen like prize peacocks. One was doing the funny thing where they roll around in a dry patch of dirt, flapping her wings and wiggling her body until she was completely covered in dust. He struggled to admit it, but somehow those funny little things had wormed their way into his heart, just as they had Evelyn's. Despite her annoyed words, they both knew she was bluffing.

"Heart of stone!" he teased, with another affectionate caress. "So then, what, you've just been laying there awake for two hours?"

"Pretty much," she sighed.

"What have you been thinking about?"

"Well, a lot of things," she sighed sleepily. "Just now I was thinking about what to do what the spare room."

Cullen slid a leg over hers, wiggling between her thighs and hooking his foot under her knee. She left him little other option for branching out and stretching his limbs than to delve into the nooks and crannies of her body. No matter how far he scooted to the edge of the bed, she'd sense the distance in her sleep and roll toward him. He'd scoot some more, and she'd roll some more. While there was no question that he'd prefer to spend the whole night with her tucked tightly in his arms, he felt safer with a small buffer of distance, just in case he'd flailed about and accidentally hit her during one of his routine bad dreams. She insisted that it was a risk she was willing to take, but the thought of hurting her, even unintentionally, remained unconscionable. Nearly every morning he woke trapped at the edge of the bed while she had a sea of space on the other side of her, and twice now he'd been pushed completely out and onto the floor. But there was no way he could fault her for it. She only wanted to stay close. 

"And? What else?"

Finally she moved, rolling herself sleepily over onto her back. She eyed the big stretch of space beside her and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she said with a shrug as Cullen scooted back toward her, the side of his body gone momentarily cold in the absence of her touch. In a quick second they were flush against each other again, his leg entwining comfortably back into hers.

"And, I was thinking about an office, though I am not sure what we'd even need an office for. But we need to do  _something_  with it. It's too nice a room to just be left to storage," she continued as she rubbed her eyes and sounded off a slow yawn. An office. Another desk to sit behind, more maps and documents and papers and bookshelves. It had only been several months, but he'd become quite pleased with how so much of his days were spent outside now and not sitting behind some slab of wood covered in papers. Hanging out with the pup and the girls, getting so much sunshine and fresh air was actually  _fun._  He'd gotten pretty damn good with a saw and a hammer, too. He'd even started thinking about plans for a… No, he should definitely know her thoughts on this before he went that far. It would be a little awkward to just start randomly building a crib if she didn't even want someone to put inside it.

"What?" she said quickly, her bright blue eyes trained sharply on him. He tried to relax his eyebrows, suddenly aware that he was frowning.

"You don't like that idea? I guess you have spent enough time in an office to last your whole life, haven't you? Have _you_ thought of anything to do with that room?"

And now his eyebrows were stuck somewhere in the middle of his forehead, frozen awkwardly in his attempt to force them to relax. He cleared his throat and tried to bargain with his face to just be normal. He wasn't expecting to feel so anxious before bringing up what he was about to. He had indeed thought quite a bit about what to do with that room, and it still made him nervous to wonder what she might think about it.

"Well," he began, and instantly felt the need to clear his throat again. Had they never spoke about this before? Surely this wasn't truly the first time?

She was quiet while she waited, but her head dipped as though encouraging him to speak.  _Maker's breath._  Sometimes it helped to pretend he was still the Commander and she was merely one of his soldiers. He never got nervous in front of his soldiers, never had a problem saying anything at all to them. But that pretense wouldn't work within this particular context.

"Well," he said again, trying to resist the impulse to clear his throat for the third time. Maker forbid she think he was coming down with a cold. She'd be tutting over him all day. "I mean… have you considered the possibility of… that being someone else's room?"

"You mean like taking on a boarder?" she asked with surprise. Suddenly there was a curious rushing sound in his ears. It took a moment for him to recognize it as blood flowing in time with his heart. Immediately after that came the familiar warmth in his cheeks. Surely they'd be turning pink and completely giving him away. He sighed.

_Just say it. If she doesn't want to, it's fine. If she'd does, great._

"Well, actually, what I mean is… I was wondering…. I don't know if you've ever told me exactly, at least not seriously… um, about how big you foresee our family being?"

He exhaled heavily. There was some small measure of relief there, but not much. At least it was out.

Evelyn's eyes quickly flicked away from his, growing distant and frustratingly unrevealing. The heartbeat wasn't just in his ears now, it was making itself known in his chest, followed by a flutter of some nervous creature that seemed to be rattling around within the cage of his stomach. He sighed again, hoping the expelling of air would help calm him down. She was still quiet. Why was she still quiet? Was it because she didn't want to?

"You mean…" she began, but left it hanging in the air. Maker's breath. It certainly wasn't possible that she'd never thought about it before, was it?

She looked self consciously down at her arm, and his frown hit again, full force. Seeing this beautiful, singularly competent woman look so unsure had an effect that was not unlike a dagger to the heart. His hand found her of its own volition, slipping behind her back and rubbing reassuringly.

"Have you never thought about it?" he asked.

"Of course I have but… I didn't want to, I mean I never thought I could possibly bring a child into a world that could end up the way Corypheus described," she said. Her face got that quiet, dark look that she usually got when she was thinking about that bald elf. She still hadn't shared the full extent of her conversation with him during the Exalted Council, and he hadn't pressed her. But he could see enough to know whatever he'd revealed had troubled her deeply.

"And how long until yet another thing comes along to threaten the world? Isn't it a little cruel to bring a child into such an…uncertain future?" she asked. He was stunned into silence for a moment, before his mouth began to work. He listened to himself speak, not knowing what it was that he was even going to say.

"And what if our parents had the same rationale, and had never had us? Never had you or me? The world has always been threatened by one thing or another. It's the good, hardworking people that have saved it every time," he explained, not even realizing this was what he believed until the words were out and hanging in the air. As he listened to himself, he realized he never could have planned such a heartfelt argument in advance. "Imagine a world where there are no good, hardworking people because everyone was too afraid to bring new ones into it? What would happen then?"

She looked at him for a long time, her eyes as clear as lake Calenhad at high noon. There was something there that lit a spark of hope deep in his heart, but that hope remained dangerously fragile. She seemed deeply lost in some unknowable thought, even as she continued to study his face.

"You really want them, then? Babies? Children?" she asked finally.

He waited a moment before answering. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure her, or make her feel bad about her feelings if it turned out that she  _didn't_  want children. But what good would it do to be dishonest? That had never been the spirit of their relationship up until now, and he didn't want to regret never telling her the truth.

Slowly, Cullen nodded his confirmation. "I can think of nothing better than to see a beautiful little child staring up at me with your big blue eyes," he said as he swallowed down the giant lump that had somehow developed in his throat. "Nothing, that is, besides a life with you. If our family remains just the two of us, then I will still be the happiest man in Thedas."

Oh dear, her eyes were getting really shiny. And there it looked like… yep, they're watering. Cullen had to look away for a moment, feeling some watery pressure of his own building in his face. She certainly wouldn't fault him for tearing up too, but still the idea was one that he struggled to be comfortable with. Two decades of training in one of the most masculine of professions had left their indelible mark. There had always been women in the Order of course, but even they were trained to be as emotionally contained as possible. It was safer, easier for a Templar not to grow too attached to their mage charges if they could shut off and deny their emotions. He took a deep breath and looked back at her. Her hair was adorably tousled, her eyes now pink and still slightly puffy with sleep. His heart ached at her perfectly imperfect beauty.

"Or a little boy with your brown eyes," she said, laughing softly, even as another tear streamed down her cheek. "And your curly blonde hair?"

"Maker forbid," he snorted. "These curls have not always been my friend through the years. No, I'm sure they'd appreciate getting your hair much more than mine."

She shook her head and reached out to thread her fingers affectionately through those same curls, probably wild and slightly matted from sleep. He momentarily lost all thought as her nails raked gently along his scalp just how she knew he liked it. He groaned and closed his eyes, pulling her tighter up against him.

"But…" she said with a tone that caught his attention again. "How am I even going to pick up my own baby with only one hand?"

He squeezed her again, kneading gently at the muscles of her arm.

"You don't need two  _hands_  to hold a baby love. You only need two arms, which you have. And you know we can always go back to the village to talk to that man about the prosthetic. I saw a man with one in Kirkwall once. He didn't seem to need anyone's help with anything."

She sniffled and dropped her head down onto his shoulder, and he took a deep breath of her hair, savoring the clean, delicate scent.

"And I've seen slings that people can wear to put their babies in, that keeps them close with no need for hands at all," he continued. "We'll find a way to do whatever you need to do my love, you know we will. I'll always be here to help."

"So… then that room could be a baby's room?" she asked as though she was considering it for the first time.

"If you want," he said softly. "We could always add on to the cottage too, if we need more room."

She laughed heartily this time, looking up at him again with that amused half smile of hers. "Exactly how many are you thinking?"

He shrugged and tried to press down the grin that threatened to overtake his face. Her laughter was encouraging, but he still felt the need for caution.

"As many as you want?" he said, phrasing it as gently as he could manage. She only laughed again, a delightful musical trill that seemed to bounce off the walls and always filled some piece inside of him that he was never aware was even empty.

"Okay," she began, her voice sounding much less choked up than it had a few seconds ago, "so let's say you make a compelling argument. Lets say I find the idea of a tiny little person that looks just like you to be irresistible."

He gave her a moment to continue, but she only looked at him expectantly.

"Yes?"

"And lets say I told you that, way before the anchor and the Inquisition, I sort of thought I might want a  _big_  family…"

He laughed, feeling an almost unbearable lightness practically lifting his head right off his shoulders. The rushing in his ears became a buzz, an excited, shaky stream of chemicals and joy that he did his best to temper with the forced evenness of his breathing. It would be so much easier if she said she really did want a big family first, as unlikely as it might be considering the perfectly reasonably trepidation she expressed just a few minutes ago. He'd come to realize over the last few months that truly was what he wanted too. But not at the expense of her happiness.

"Yes?" he said again, trying to encourage her to continue. She needed to be the one to say it first. He  _needed_  to hear her say it.

"Well, I mean…" she sighed, looking away again, "if I said I might be convinced to have like, four kids? Five? You'd be okay with that? That's a lot of extra space we'd have to add on. Are you up to building all those extra rooms  _and_  being a father?"

He didn't need to think to answer. There was nothing else he had to occupy his time now. He  _wanted_  more to occupy his time. Especially if that meant working out under the open sky, and for the benefit of his family.

"Absolutely," he said firmly.

"Well," she said, her eyes darkening again. "What if… what if we maybe just start with one, and then… just see. Maybe things will change. We still don't know what might happen over time, what the future holds..."

He blinked at her for a moment, replaying the words she just spoke over in his head. That sounded almost like a yes… a yes that she did want to try to make a baby. But she still had actually only said "maybe"… but it sounded like a 'yes-maybe', not an 'I'll-think-about-it-maybe'. Had he really convinced her? Or — and this seemed much more likely — was it simply that she already wanted one and had been too afraid to think seriously about it before? With all the things she'd seen… shit, with all the things they'd  _both_  seen, some measure of reluctance or trepidation was expected. Probably  _smart,_  even.

"That sounds perfect," was all he could think of to say.

Her eyes grew pink again as a wide smile spread over her face. She looked down, looked at the walls, looked out the window, but Cullen could look only at her. At the perfect cut of her jaw, at the smooth, enticing skin of her neck, the delicate definition of her collar bones. Maker's breath, she was simply the most lovely creature he'd ever seen.

"So..." she began, her little smile turning decidedly wicked as her fingers began to trail up his belly, sending shivers across his skin. "Start with one…"

He laughed again, "well, that's pretty much all we can do, right? If we end up with more on the first try, that is not exactly  _our_  fault, is it?"

"Oh Maker…" she said with a nervous laugh, and he couldn't help but join her. While a big family would be wonderful, getting many of them at the same time would be a challenge, to say the very least.

"As far as I know, there is no history of multiples in my family," he said, hoping that it was some comfort. She fell quiet for a moment, her hands spreading out along his skin and pressing, her palms scraping up his chest with increased force. He couldn't help but feel the heat of her touch begin to register lower, firing up that titillating jolt of warmth in his belly.

"So, when should we start trying?" she asked, the glint in her eyes saying so much more than the words. Her eyes flicked down to his crotch as the movement there caught her attention, and her smile only grew wider.

"Whenever you want?" he answered breathlessly.

She nodded as her thigh slid over his, her nectarous lips drawing closer and closer with each breath they took. He leaned in, magnetized to her with a force he couldn't possibly resist. Maker, how was it possible that three years after their first kiss, he was still so unable to withstand the pull of her lips?

"Would immediately be okay?" she whispered, her mouth growing incrementally closer. He could only nod as all he blood seemed to leave his head. Somewhere deep inside he was exultant, his chest filling with the sweetest, most joyful pressure he'd ever felt. But his mind was slowly overtaken by the growing needs of his body, by the sensitivity to her touch, by that impossibly perfect curve in her lips.

"We'll have to be quick," she said just before their lips touched. "You know how mad the girls get when you're late with their breakfast."

He laughed quickly before his focus fell to her touch again, to the warmth of her soft thighs as she slowly writhed herself into a straddle over the top of him.

"The girls will get over it," he breathed, barely finishing the words before his eyes fell closed, and everything else disappeared.


End file.
